Wednesday, December 30, 2009

There isn't a specific point to this post, it's just an opportunity for me to recount the experience of buying a kitchen knife in Japan, as well as a collection of other bits of information to bear in mind if and when you're next buying a knife, whether or not you're in Japan.

Over Christmas, I went on an organised tour of Hokkaido, the penultimate day of which led me to Sapporo, the capital of Hokkaido Prefecture, where we tourists were deposited in Tanuki Koji Shopping Arcade (狸小路) in Susukino, Sapporo's red-light district, which, oddly enough, is also famous for the Sapporo Ramen Alley, which features over 10 ramen restaurants serving miso ramen (overrated and overly-salty, if you ask me).

I was not planning on buying a knife, but among the dross of gambling dens and souvenir shops, I stumbled across a knife shop (宫文) towards the end of the shopping arcade (狸小路 6 or 7). Normally I can never resist a knife shop, but this was like I'd died and gone to Lizzie Borden's idea of heaven. There were all manner of blades there; no samurai swords, but there was an entire rack dedicated to scissors, while a shelf of nail clippers sat adjacent to menacing-looking kiri (axe-like implements used to prepare soba and udon noodles).

After eventually deciding to buy a kitchen knife, I first had to decide what kind. As my Global chef's knife was still serviceable (though it is embarrassingly blunt so I really should sharpen it at some point), and my Kyocera ceramic santoku had long chipped into disuse, I figured I should get another santoku. It also didn't hurt that the one I had my eye on was one of the cheapest blades in the shop at 4515 yen (about $75), though some of the other chef's knives and santoku were easily twice that amount.

As this Wikipedia article helpfully explains, the santoku (三徳) is so named because it represents the "three virtues" of knifework: slicing, dicing/chopping and mincing, and is increasingly the knife of choice in most kitchens.

The problem for me, however, was that there were two santoku knives in a similar price range that looked good: the one I had originally alighted on, and another (slightly more expensive) one that had more elaborate kanji carvings on the blade. Another difference, I discovered (with some difficulty due to the language barrier), was that the former was made of half carbon steel and half stainless steel, while the latter was full stainless steel. Which to choose?

It was at this point I wished I'd paid more attention the numerous articles I'd read in blogs and cookbooks about knives: the relative merits of carbon and stainless steel, how far the tang of the blade should go into the handle, whether it mattered if the blade was angled on one or both sides, and all the rest of it. As a result, one reason for this post is for me to aggregate some of the interesting and useful knife-related information I've found.

Francois Xavier of fxcuisine has a beautiful post showing how hand-forged Japanese knives are made, while Michael Chu of Cooking For Engineers has, as you'd expect, a series of in-depth and insightful articles about different knife parts, types and brands. Downstream, Chubby Hubby has a great illustrated post about knife-sharpening. Wikipedia, as usual, also has an excellent explanation of the history and technology of Japanese cutlery.

None of these, however, quite solved my santoku dilemma, so I decided to resort to the oldest trick in the book: judging a book by its cover.

Really the most important thing about buying a kitchen knife is that it must feel comfortable to you, since you're going to be using it regularly. Pretend to slice and dice with it and see whether you like how the knife reacts to your hand movements. Personally, I preferred the slightly heavier heft of my original carbon/stainless steel knife, and the relative technical merits of carbon vs. stainless steel (which you can find in brief here and in more detail here) are not that important (or understandable) unless you have a degree in chemical engineering.

The very fact that the knife had a bolster indicated that it was forged (formed by superheating, pounding down and honing a larger hunk of steel - much like how one would make a samurai sword) rather than stamped (cookie-cut from a sheet of metal), though on closer inspection I've discovered only half the bolster (the top half, in the picture above) is forged from the same piece of metal as the knife blade; the other (bottom) half appears to be welded on, which is less elegant and resilient.

I also liked the fact that both knives had a full tang, i.e. one extending all the way to the base of the handle (above), which I feel gives the blade a better balance and prevents it from being too light or flimsy.

A riveted handle is apparently stronger than a moulded handle, but the only important factor for me was that the handle felt comfortable when I gripped it. I was not especially pleased with a wooden handle, as I'm concerned that it will crack with repeated washing and harbour bacteria, but almost all the knives in the shop had wooden handles, and the smooth, seal brown, fine grained wood looked very appealing.

I had initially thought that the knife blade was single-beveled (i.e. sharpened and angled only on one side, with the other flat), in keeping with the traditional Japanese style. This affects the ambidexterity of the knife, and I certainly did not want to keep cutting myself because I had mistakenly bought a left-handed knife.

The salesman (after some miming on my part), however, assured me that the knife was equally suitable for left- and right-handed use, which surprised me, but now that I've examined it more carefully I see that it is actually double-beveled (as you can see above, when the blade is laid against a flat surface, the left-hand side is not totally flushed, as it would be in a true single-beveled blade), though the angle is still more acute on the right-hand side, reminiscent of the classic Japanese style.

In terms of looks, I have no real complaints - the knife is sleek, elegant and fairly traditional, while kanji inscriptions decorate slightly less than half the blade, clearly earmarking the santoku's provenance. It would appear that, despite not remembering most of what I'd read, I inadvertently still managed to come away with a pretty decent knife, though of course I don't think I could have walked out of that shop with a truly inferior knife.

Having experimented with the knife today, it is not as life-threateningly sharp as I thought it would be, but it still does its work fairly effortlessly. I had no problems cutting up carrots, potatoes, celery and onions, and only the turnip was not cut as cleanly and evenly as I would have liked, but then the turnip was a bit grainy and more prone to breaking apart than the other vegetables. As expected, the carbon steel component results in some discolouration of the knife after use, but overall the santoku is a pleasure to use, and one of the better souvenirs of my trip. I would highly recommend that if you're in Japan, look out for a knife shop so that you can bring back a knife of true craftsmanship and artisanal beauty.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

There were two things I had a sudden inspiration for this weekend, churros and spam fries with lime aioli. The latter didn't quite happen but thanks to D's help, the first one did. We were all done with dinner where I'd brought some chocolate cake as a back-up dessert. This was to be the piece de resistance.

I had googled Churros recipes the week before and chosen the one that seemed the most legit. From what I could tell, they were mostly choux pastry recipes which involved the pastry being piped through a star tip into a wok of oil and then deep fried to a semi-hollow puffiness. We tossed the ingredients together and took turns whacking the dough around in the saucepan till it became shiny and pliable.

Just two words of warning, one is not to pipe too close to the hot oil, you may inadvertantly scald yourself with the hot moisture and two, you have to use a closed star tip and not an open (cupcake) star tip like we did, which results in bulgier, less crinkled churros. Other than that, the churros turned out pretty good! I wished we had halved the recipe as we had way too much leftover and I also think we could have done with some hot chocolate accompaniment.

1. This churros recipe said it made 2-3 servings for breakfast but actually it makes way too much for even 10-12 people. I would definitely advise cutting it in half unless you are having a party.

2. Pour vegetable oil, such as canola or corn oil into a large heavy bottomed frying pan. Make sure there is about 2 inches of oil in the pan to cover the churros. There should be enough oil so that they float freely while frying. Set pan aside.

3. In a medium sauce pan, pour 1 cup water. Add oil, salt, sugar and stir. Bring water to a boil. While waiting for water to boil, measure the flour and add baking powder and stir.

4. Once water boils, slowly pour boiling water from saucepan into flour mixture - stirring constantly with a fork until it is a smooth dough without lumps. Note: Dough should not be runny like a batter, but rather a sticky smooth dough. Turn on the flame under the frying pan of oil and while the oil is heating, you want to aerate the dough by stirring it vigourously in the saucepan. This takes the better part of 10 minutes and involves stirring and mixing the dough hard with a wooden spoon, don't be afraid to handle the dough fairly violently. The dough will get drier and shinier.

5. Spoon dough into a churrera (a large cookie press) or pastry bag with a closed star tip. Carefully squeeze dough into hot oil, cut the pieces off the tip and fry until golden brown. Remove with a slotted spatula or long-handled fork. Place on a paper towel to drain.

6. Once drained, cut into manageable lengths. Sprinkle with sugar and cinammon and serve hot.

Saturday, December 19, 2009

From one successor of Borgo to another, I finally decided to try L'Ancora, the five-month old Italian restaurant which now occupies Borgo's spot.

As an aside, I think there are too many Italian restaurants in Singapore. Think of ten restaurants off the top of your head, and at least half of them will probably be Italian. This is not necessarily a bad thing, and is probably just a reflection of the fact that most Italian food takes less time to prepare than most French or Moroccan food. However, it does mean that eating out in Singapore becomes slightly boring after a while, with more misses than hits.

Once in a while, however, you find a gem - a place that serves truly good food, paired with service so immaculate it makes you feel like royalty, and at prices that probably wouldn't even get you a bowl of soup at other restaurants.

L'Ancora is one such venue. The layout and look of the restaurant has been rejigged somewhat since the days of Borgo: a fresh coat of paint, the grill area of the kitchen is now a cheese room, and a chalkboard with daily specials. The most noticeable difference, however, is the change in management. While service at Borgo was never bad, Roy and Umberto from L'Ancora are genial, courteous and effusively enthusiastic about seeing to your every need. Service in this country is often compared unfavourably to that of Hong Kong, so it is all the more refreshing and rewarding to enjoy such an excellent experience.

Of course, service is only one part of the meal, but L'Ancora has astutely taken care of the other aspects as well. In terms of price, there is the two-course set lunch at $20, and a four-course set dinner (with free flow of wine) available from Monday to Thursday for $68, which are some of the best prices I've seen for a while.

As for the food, appetisers take the form of Italian classics such as bruschetta ($12), calamari ($16) and vitello tonatto ($18). Interestingly, the prosciutto in the prosciutto e melon ($18) is San Daniele ham, which is rarely seen, even in Italy, and is prized over the more famous Parma ham for its delicate sweetness.

My carpaccio ($18) however, was slightly disappointing. Despite a surfeit of ingredients (rocket, parmesan, black truffle), somehow nothing differentiated it from any other thinly sliced raw beef, and there was no noticeable truffle aroma.

Where L'Ancora stands out is in its fresh, handmade pastas. The tagliolini with shrimps ($20) is served in a thick shrimp bisque, and comes in a generous helping, so you might want to avoid having too much complimentary bread. Other intriguing offers are the wholewheat stracci with braised duck in red wine sauce ($20) and the braised wild boar pappardelle ($26).

The fettucine with braised rabbit ($24), however, was one of the best pasta dishes I've had in a long time. It's rare to get rabbit meat in this country, and I don't believe I've ever seen it take the form of rabbit pasta (in Singapore, anyway). Perhaps it was the novelty of it, but the resultant dish was fantastic. The rabbit meat had been braised to tenderness and teased apart with a fork, cooked into a luscious broth that draped the ribbons of fettucine, coating them with a sweet, unctuous sauce. The addition of Tagatosche olives was brilliant, as the saltiness of the little fruits provided a lovely contrast.

When (not if) I go back, I'll try one of the pizzas, as L'Ancora offers a selection of very affordable (under $20) pizzas that all look delectable, and I'm sure my father will be unable to resist having some pizza.

Desserts are not particularly surprising, there is the "unholy trinity" of tiramisu, warm chocolate cake and panna cotta. Happily, the warm chocolate crostata ($12) is more of a tart than a cake, filled with rich, thick melted chocolate.

Giving in to my compulsion to find out how good a restaurant's panna cotta is, I was impressed by L'Ancora's panna cotta. Glossy-smooth and wobbly, the panna cotta had pretty much a perfect consistency, without being overly rich and creamy. If all restaurants served panna cotta like that, there'd be no reason for me to make my own.

I've probably praised L'Ancora enough, but I really am extremely impressed by the high standards (with regard to both food and service) paired with low prices. I've often thought this is exactly what new restaurants need to do in order to survive the treacherous first year, and if L'Ancora can manage to keep its quality and prices consistent, I'm sure it will soon become extremely difficult to get a reservation.

It's common knowledge that the restaurant industry is a merciless business, especially in Singapore, where consumers are fickle (remember the bubble tea and pork floss bun fads) and demanding when it comes to food. Italian food, in particular, seems to witness a phenomenal turnover, with at least two or three new restaurants opening every week.

Borgo, the popular restaurant along Sixth Avenue, has closed, but its chef and maitre d' have moved to a new restaurant, Borgata Trattoria Osteria, in Clarke Quay.

The restaurant certainly lives up to the "osteria" label: a flat-screen TV is provided for patrons to follow their favourite soccer teams, which creates a convivial, casual, taverna feel. Unsurprisingly, there was a match featuring Juventus FC.

Food is relatively cheap and abundant - like any authentic osteria/trattoria, Borgata is a place to share, spreading the warmth of kinship and love of eating generously around the table.

The antipasti mixto is not groundbreaking, but the collection of grilled vegetables (eggplant, zucchini and pumpkin), fresh tomatoes, cheese (parmigiano-reggiano and pecorino), and cold meats (prosciutto, mortadella, salami) is irresistible, especially when eaten with a drizzle of balsamic vinegar.

Who doesn't like bruschetta? Zesty and refreshing, it's like being reunited with an old friend over drinks. More tomato concasse would have been better, though.

The pasta carbonara, interestingly, took the form of fusili, rather than the more common spaghetti. Not too creamy, so that you won't feel completely bloated after having a portion. If you're feeling more adventurous, Borgata has a dazzling array of more exotic pastas such as orechiette, combined with interesting sauces.

Alternatively, stick to something safer like the spaghetti alle vongole, which had a lovely flavour from the white wine and clam juice, but did not have very meaty clams. After the trouble of prying open clam shells, teasing out a few scraggly strands of clam meat is something of an anti-climax.

My father is a great fan of pizzas, and when he heard that I was going to Borgata, he gave me instructions to try the pizzas and see how they compared to Borgo's. I decided to order one with everything: mushrooms, mozzarella, parmigiano-reggiano, arugula, and prosciutto. The pizza was sizeable, with a nice thin crust and a generous helping of ingredients. Although the kitchen had run out of arugula (what kind of Italian restaurant runs out of arugula leaves?), it was replaced with spinach leaves. The spinach had wilted due to the heat of the pizza, which created a slightly limp texture that would not have been present had arugula leaves been used, but I suppose beggars can't be choosers.

Borgata needs to brush up their dessert offerings, though. Currently, they only offer tiramisu, molten chocolate cake and panna cotta, which is a combination that is scarcely original and hardly inspiring. Consequently, we chose not to have dessert, but went to a patisserie a few doors down.

Borgata may still be finding its feet, but with a little time, it should soon be drawing hungry diners through its doors with the promise of good food at affordable prices, in a friendly, unprepossessing environment, and perhaps a rerun of a Juventus game.

Tuesday, December 08, 2009

Everybody loves a gimmick. The people behind Desire, the restaurant of the boutique Scarlet Hotel, clearly do, because that's the theme of the restaurant: from menu, to decor, to the names of courses, everything revolves around the idea of temptation, sin, lust, and other carnal pleasures, as you can see below.

The S&M bordello theme is not exactly very subtle, but whatever works, right?

The "Stimulus Package" is Desire's extremely seductive and alluring set lunch menu: at $24 for two courses and $30 for three courses, it is priced at a very substantial discount to the restaurant's a la carte menu (the "Book of Desire"), where main courses can cost in excess of $40.

For starters, I had the baked portobello mushroom, which was topped with an egg cooked sous vide and finished with some melted cheese. Having cooked something similar myself, this is a good combination of ingredients: the neutral-tasting, meaty mushroom is enriched by the poached egg and complemented by the salty, tangy cheese, though I felt that given the richness of the egg yolk and cheese, the dish would have benefitted from a drizzle of balsamic vinegar to lift it with some viscous sweetness and cut through all that fat with some acidity.

The tomato soup was a bright, cheerful orange, carrying an intense flavour of ripened, sweet tomatoes, despite the fact that the pulverised seeds had not been completely strained out. A bit on the thick side, the soup is best enjoyed together with the warm, crusty somewhat hollow bread the restaurant serves.

My duck leg confit cooked sous vide evidently did not survive the cooking process unscathed, as it looked rather battered on the plate, with the skin broken in several places. Nonetheless, it was quite tasty (although the skin could have been further crisped), and served with a zesty sauce that contained some orange juice, which helped to cut through some of the oiliness. The duck leg wasn't too large, which was just right for a lunch portion, and had been slow-cooked to tenderness.

The char-grilled beef fillet was another winner: the scorch marks lending a smokey flavour to the meat, which was nicely rounded off by the rich red wine sauce. The potatoes had been initially roasted, then gently cooked in red wine, which removed some of the crunchy exterior on the potatoes, but left them with a hint of tannins.

Dessert for me was a white chocolate cheesecake which was served with a scoop of what might have been green tea ice cream. I'm not overly fond of cheesecakes, so this petite portion was enough for me. I imagine this would have satisfied serious cheesecake afficionados.

The other dessert option was a fresh berry crepe served with lemon sorbet (which my father requested be substituted with vanilla ice cream). Confit (incidentally, how does one use a French word that is already in the past tense in an English sentence to express a past tense? Confit-ed?) strawberries and blueberries were wrapped in a soft crepe and doused in a syrupy orange sauce. A little too sweet, but otherwise enjoyable for those who like berries.

If you work in town, set lunch at Desire may be a good idea - service is friendly and efficient, portions aren't huge, the price is right, and the ambience, even if a little over the top, will ensure that you have something to talk about over lunch. No surprise that the restaurant has enjoyed a favourable word of mouth reputation as well as formal recognition as one of Wine and Dine's top restaurants of 2008.

Monday, December 07, 2009

When I was young, I hated going to Sentosa for school outings. I thought it was a glorified landfill that had been created solely for the tacky purposes of national education and tourist promotion. In my teen years, Sentosa became identified with beach parties and an almost rebellious counter-culture.

These days, however, Sentosa has become a destination of choice, boasting scenic hotels set among tranquil forestry, golf courses, luxury villas and a gamut of activities. Once the integrated resort is completed it will become even more interesting, and an awesome vertical wind tunnel is currently under construction. Increasingly, Sentosa is also becoming a venue for good food: Il Lido set up shop, and all the hotels have their own attached restaurants. It seems that, contrary to what I said in my review of Il Lido, there may be many reasons to go all the way to Sentosa for a meal.

One such reason is Braise, a restaurant that has been on my radar ever since it opened to decent reviews a few years ago, but that I'd forgotten about for a while. That is, until I tried to make a booking for dinner a month ago, only to find that it had been fully booked. My curiosity piqued, I was determined to see what made it so popular.

Somewhat unexpectedly for a beachfront restaurant, Braise had a dress code that frowned on open-toed slippers, even for ladies, and so my date and I were relegated to the other end of the restaurant, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise, as the tables there had table lamps which were much more conducive to photography.

The tables we were seated at were also located next to a long koi pond, and were also across from the kitchen, allowing us to watch the culinary team helmed by Chef Desmond Lee in action - a poor man's chef's table, if you will.

Service at Braise is very good: the waitstaff, watched over by the friendly and excellent Operations Manager Ms Azrah Ang, are warm and observant - I never had to ask for a refill of water, and I was informed that mains were on their way without having to inquire if there had been a delay with the food.

As for the food, Braise specialises in contemporary modern European cuisine, much like its sister restaurant, Ember.

We started with an amuse-bouche of cured salmon, sitting on a dill mayonnaise and topped with diced peppers. The dish worked well: served chilled to accentuate the taste of the fish, already enhanced by the curing process, with a sweetness coming from the peppers and mayonnaise, the latter of which also served as a sort of sauce to contrast the soft texture of the salmon.

My lobster bisque with lobster ceviche and croutons ($20) was very comforting: throat-warming with a robust, umami flavour achieved by extracting every last drop of essence from the shells of lobsters. Again, the texture contrast with the crunchy croutons is a good idea.

I thought my date could have done with an additional scallop in her capellini with seared Hokkaido scallops ($24), although the pasta was faultless. Braise seems to favour using capellini as a side in many of their dishes, which means that for those with small appetites, a starter can pass for a main course.

My main course of venison loin with sauteed spaetzle and wilted spinach ($36) was quite marvellous. More strongly flavoured than beef, I was particularly impressed that the chef had managed to cook the meat to a perfect medium doneness despite its relative thinness. You'd think that doneness is the most basic thing to get right, but an astonishing number of restaurants have great difficulty getting it right, especially when the meat is thin. I've not eaten fried spaetzle before, and they seem essentially to be fried bits of flour, but they went well with the meat, as did the wilted spinach, which lost most of its subtle bitterness to become a healthy accompaniment to the venison.

My date, having declined to replace the capellini in her main course, found the cod with spiced crust, capellini and sabayon of grain mustard ($36) too rich to finish, which was unsurprising, given that cod is naturally oily. Apart from that, however, I thought it was an interesting dish: you don't often see fish paired with pasta. The mustard sauce, although heavy, was not at all harsh or overpowering, having been cooked down to a mellow, almost sweet, nutty sauce that flavoured and coated the pasta. The fish was fresh and well-cooked, easily falling apart when teased with a fork.

I ordered a grand marnier souffle with banana ice cream ($17), which came with slices of bruleed bananas. The grand marnier was not very strong, which was fine by me, and some dark chocolate had been added to the base of the souffle, resulting in a chocolatey surprise when you dug into the souffle. Apart from being slightly undercooked, the souffle was quite enjoyable when eaten with the mild banana ice cream.

Braise is one of the better restaurants on Sentosa, which explains its fairly high prices. The restaurant also offers a three course set lunch at $38, as well as a three course set dinner at $70, and a five course set dinner at $90. Perhaps not prices that justify dining there every weekend, but when coupled with the good food and service, may just be worth saving up for.

Tuesday, December 01, 2009

Les Artistes Bistrot, run by the good people of Nicolas Le Restaurant, has closed for the time being, and is to be relocated somewhat further afield, in order not to adversely compete with its larger sibling. In its place, however, is Alba, an Italian restaurant helmed by a Japanese chef.

The restaurant is not very large, seating about 30 people. There is a private room available that can seat about 10, but given the small size of the place, I would have thought that economically it makes more sense to put in more tables, rather than waste the space on a private room that will probably not be used regularly.

Bold uses of ochre on the walls is mirrored and enhanced by the paintings, which are all pretty earthy, depicting pastoral and bucolic scenery in deep hues of red and orange. Rather Mediterranean, actually, which I suppose was the effect they were going for.

The complimentary amuse-bouche was a ravioli of crabmeat, dyed green with chevril, with an emulsion of green asparagus. Light, fresh and verdant, it was a great way to start the meal and a good display of the chef's deftness in working with the delicate crab pasta.

There was no choice as to appetiser, since they ran out of the other option, but the slow-cooked gratineed scallops with a tomato base scented with garlic and lady's finger were an unusual offering. A melange of textures (the crunch of the gratineed bread crumbs, the soft firmness of the scallops and the mouth-coating liquidity of the tomato sauce) was matched by a medley of tastes: sweet, savoury, piquant (not really a taste but who's counting)... As with the crab ravioli, this dish was light and surprising.

The dish that really surprised me, however, was my tagliatelle served with a ragu of kurobuta pork. I've made bolognese sauce with minced pork instead of minced beef, and it was extremely unconvincing and totally unenjoyable, so I had grave doubts about a pork ragu. However, I needn't have worried: the flavour was intense and incredibly rich, with a dense, heavy reduction that was so strong it could easily have passed for beef stock.

The prawn linguine was somewhat less impressive, I was told, but it's not a very risky dish, so it's slightly unrealistic to expect magnificent rewards.

Dessert was also creative - what appeared to be the run of the mill molten chocolate cake turned out to be a chocolate gelee instead. Something of a hybrid between a mousse and jelly, the chocolate was slightly bitter, which went well with the sweet vanilla ice cream.

I'm fond of having Italian food for lunch, as pastas strike just the right balance between being light enough not to put you into a post-lunch stupor, and being substantial enough that you don't leave the table still feeling hungry. Alba demonstrates an innovative and unconventional approach to Italian food that adds an extra layer of enjoyment, and one that ensures that you will have a meal that you can tell your friends and colleagues about.